


Blood Red vs Blue Moon

by Titan_Walls



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Vampires, Vampires vs Werewolves, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-08-19 16:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20212609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titan_Walls/pseuds/Titan_Walls
Summary: Simmons noticed something is strange about Grif from the moment they meet.Red team is part of the vampire army. Blue team is part of the werewolf army.





	1. Grif is Weird

Simmons always thought there was something wrong with the fat ass in orange armor. It doesn't even look all that orange. Ever since that day on the bridge during boot camp, Grif came off as different than the other soldiers in the Blood Red Army.   
Okay, maybe at first it was less wrong, and more he was just lazy and out of shape. But then Simmons found out about all the hidden junk food. Vampires can only eat so much solids due to small stomachs, and sugary things were not good for their digestive systems. He himself would get sick after eating a single snack cake. A few other things were said along the way that just didn't sit well with him. By the time the two of them were stationed in Blood Gulch, Simmons had written out a list. 

  1. Eat's sweets constantly. 
  2. Complains about being hungry, but never goes to the canteen. 
  3. Sleeps more than everyone else. 
  4. Snores! 
  5. Does not show up for Flight Training. 
  6. Never takes off his helmet. 
  7. Dos not shower! GROSS! 
  8. Smokes! 
  9. Drinks! 
  10. Said something about loving pizza. 

  
At first, he just chucked it up to Grif being super weird. There are weird people in the universe, and he wasn't doing anything wrong... for the first two weeks in the boxed canyon. That was when they had to deal with their first supply drop. It was scheduled for the same place and time that the blues got their own supplies. Sarge wasn't allowed to go with them do to the firefight he started in the very first drop Blood Gulch had a few weeks prior. The commanding red had shot holes into a lot of the blood bags, spilling the precious red liquid, while the blue just had to pick shotgun pellets out of their meats. The Blood Gulch Terms of War was then written up so there was a small period of peace between the two armies once a week, that way no one would have to go hungry. 

On the spot, as Simmons had predicted, Grif didn't bother to help them sort the crates. What he didn't guess however, was the asshole would go straight over to the leader of blue team and start talking to him quietly. What the hell? Why would he want to talk to the leader of the mutts? All they were supposed to do is grab their own shit and leave, Not Talk To The Enemy! Maybe an insult or two, but not a conversation. Simmons continued to work, but now was in a huffy state of mind. Lopez took most of the boxes back to red base himself while Simmons categorized and labeled them all. Once it was all done, Grif came back over, carrying one box of supplies that was labeled for Blue team. 

"Grif, give that back. We got a treaty when it comes to supplies, and I don't want to go hungry because you stole their stuff." 

"I didn't steal it." He tilted his helmet as if rolling his eyes. "I convinced Flowers to give it to me." 

"How and why did you do that?" 

"If we ever manage to take one as a prisoner, we got to feed them. Wolves like raw meat, but can't survive on blood alone, dumbass." 

Oh, he has a point, but Simmons didn't want to agree with him. "That's stupid. We want them dead. When are we ever going to take a prisoner? Besides the food will spoil by the time that ever happens." 

Grif just gave him a shrug. "I'm not opposed to just eating it for the blood, so it is another food source for us, and less for them. No down side here." 

Damn it! Why does Grif have to make a great point? "Fine, but you have to carry it yourself." 

"Uh, fine." 

Over the course of the next few days, Simmons noticed Grif's share of the blood that was not being drank. No wonder the guy always said he was hungry; he didn't fucking eat correctly. But... why is the potential prisoner provisions dwindling down? Simmons was trying to come up with a plausible explanation when Sarge started yelling from the showers. Being the good soldier he is, he rushed to the communal room. 

"What's wrong... sir..." Simmons looked straight up to the ceiling upon seeing the superior. 

Sarge stood there with a towel over his shoulder and nothing else. "This room stinks of wet dog! Those filthy blues must have infiltrated our base and used our water supply! Diabolical!" 

"What?" Simmons took off his helmet to make sure Sarge wasn't mistaken. The smell made him gag. "Uh! It's almost worse than the smell coming from Grif's room." 

"This! This is Unforgivable! Simmons! Gather the troops! This means War!" 

"We are already at war sir." 

"This time it's personal!" Sarge exclaimed before dropping the useless towel, and transformed into a large bat. He let out an angry screech, flying away, probably to get his armor and shotgun. 

The four members of red team gathered together on top of the base in full armor. Sarge's plan involved sending Grif in first, then once they hear the sounds of his gruesome demise, they will know where the enemy's location and attack with no mercy. Grif grumbled about the plan, but no one cared. They didn't see anyone as they crossed the hot scorching boxed canyon, so Grif was sent into the base first. A few minutes later he came walking back out. "Their commanding officer is dead and they're out back digging his grave." 

"Boys, today is a victory for the glory of the blood red army!" 

"We didn't do anything sir." 

"Simmons, the enemy clearly saw us coming and keeled over in fear!" 

"..." He was dumbfounded by that claim. "Should... we attack? There is only two of them with no leader now." 

"No, that is out of the question." 

Okay, that is strange. Sarge is always up for an attack on the blues. "Why sir?" 

"I'm disappointed with you Simmons." ow "Wanting to disrespect the dead. He may have been the enemy, but he deserves to be buried with dignity. Plus, it is a hundred years bad luck to kill at a funeral." He turned around and headed back to red base. 

Later that day, Simmons found himself unable to sleep. Several different thoughts were running through his head, like what werewolf would come into the enemy base to shower? What the hell killed the leader of blue team? It wasn't any of them. Why is Grif not eating properly even though he's always complaining about hunger like a fledgling? Oh, and what's that new smell? This is the time that everyone is supposed to be asleep according to the terms of war, but someone is up and about causing some nice smell in red base. He isn't supposed to leave his bunk at this time of day, but he also didn't want to let the two blues have a chance to set up an ambush in red base, to catch him and his squad-mates unaware. He got up, putting his armor back on, and started to do a sweep of the base. Simmons started at the bathroom since werewolf activity was already detected there earlier. He checked the halls, armory, basement, and roof. Last he headed for the fully functioning kitchen. 

"Freeze!" Simmons aimed his pistol at the man out of armor standing at the stove.

"What the hell?" He looked freaked out. "Simmons? What are you doing awake?" 

"Huh? Grif? What are you doing?" He lowered his weapon. 

"..." Grif looked back to the pan on the stove. "...cooking?" 

"Yeah, I can see that. Why?" 

The heavy-set soldier let out a sigh. "Because I'm hungry and I don't actually like raw meat." 

"...Wait... what... but... we need blood." 

"No, you need blood." Grif flipped over the burger. 

"Grif, you got to take better care of yourself. All vampires need blood. Including you." 

"Yeah, all vampires need blood, but I don't." Grif is stiff in his posture, focusing on the cooking meat in the frying pan and not the nerd that is taking far to long to figure it out. 

"...Holy Shit... Grif... you're..." 

"Yep." 

"How... how did a human get into an army of vampires?" 

Grif didn't respond at first. He seemed kind of confused for a moment. He even looked back at the maroon armor. "...I... I don't know. After screwing up at my first post, they transferred me for specialized training at a vampire facility... I was told I was going to be fighting the alien threat. Instead I'm stuck here in the middle of a senseless race war." 

"You don't even want to be fighting the werewolves? Seriously?" Simmons put his pistol back on his hip since there is no danger here. 

"Not one bit." 

"...Oh My God, everything makes so much sense now!" He was about to remove his helmet, but paused at the way Grif tensed up. 

"What makes sense?" 

"You! I thought you were just a crazy vampire that was just weird as hell. There's even a list!" Simmons reached into a compartment, pulling out the scrap paper he wrote it on. "You can't drink blood with out getting sick so you got around it with junk food, which would make a vampire sick. You didn't take a shower when someone could walk in, because we would be able to smell your blood without all the filters in the armor. Human's need eight hours of sleep each night, but we only had five in the day which is enough for my kind. You would of just been pushed off a cliff in flight training. Oh, and that love of pizza when pizza often times have garlic on it, but that would make a vampire sick to. How did I not see this sooner? Does Sarge know? It would also explain why he doesn't like you and keeps assigning you suicide missions." 

Grif just blinked at him in surprised, then anger. "...No... no Sarge does not know, and I don't want him to... the asshole might try to fucking eat me if he finds out that I'm a fresh source of food." 

"Ah, good point." Simmons took off his helmet this time, making Grif jerk. That made the nerd feel bad slightly, but it's fine. He had his meal before bed time and the only thing he can smell at the moment is the cooking meat... and a slight undertone of wolf. That's not good. "Look, I won't tell anyone about you being human, but you can't be out of armor. There's been signs a werewolf got in our base. The last thing we need is for you to get attacked and turned into a mongrel." 

"...A werewolf in the base? Shit. Mind guarding the door while I finish up in here? I'll hurry back to my bunk." 

"Yeah, I can do that." Simmons put the helmet back on and turned to the doorway. 

"Simmons?" 

"Yeah Grif?" 

"...thanks... for keeping it a secret." 

"It's no problem... just know in an emergency, I will probably drink you." 

Grif scuffed at that. "Yeah. Like to see you try." 

The next day, the two soldiers are keeping look out from the roof. 

"Hey?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You ever wonder why we're here?"


	2. Damn Rookies!

"...What're they talking about?" 

"Tucker, if you ask one more stupid god damn question, I am going to rip off your helmet, sink my fang into your jugular, and drain you dry." 

"..." The aqua soldier stared at him. 

"...What?!" 

"Why the hell are you making death threats like a vampire? It's fucking weird." 

"I don't know. It just feels natural." 

"Well it's not. It's like you don't know how to werewolf. Here's a tip, don't say you will drain someone. Try tearing to shreds, or ripping limbs off." 

"You know what? I fucking hate you." Church grumbled about incompetent teammates. 

"...So..." Tucker cannot stay quiet for more than a minute at a time. "Can I try the sniper rifle?" 

"Get your own." 

"Dude, there's only one." 

"Sucks to be you. Wait, I said it wrong. Shreds to be you." 

"You're such an asshole." 

"Yeah, that's kind of my thing." 

Another minute passes by before Tucker asks "What are they doing?" 

Church took in a deep breath to try and calm the beast inside. Damn he wishes Flowers was here to spy on the reds with him. At least he could deal with Tucker so he wouldn't need to. But no, they just had to find him dead in the hall. The bio scan of his armor showed the commanding officer of blue team had a heart attack. One hell of a way to go in the middle of a war zone. Expect to get murdered is some way, mainly by bullet, but nope, his own body did him in. Church then just had to insisted on burring him. They had started digging a hole by hand since they had no shovels, but then the orange red came out of their own base, saw what they were doing, and left before they could grab their guns. Luckily the rest of the reds didn't show up. They were outnumbered and totally would have died if they had. They did ditch the digging by hand idea and just dumped the body in the caves. He's technically underground, so that's something. Kind of gross Tucker took the armor off the corpse and put it on himself. If he ever managed to pick up a chick, Church has to remember to mention that part to them just to fuck Tucker over. 

"Tucker, shut the fuck up." 

"Seriously dude, the Sargent is moving about." 

"Huh?" Church took a look through the scope. "Looks like they got a car." 

"They got a car? That's not fair!" 

"So what? We're getting a tank." 

"I can't pick up chicks in a tank." 

You also can't pick up chicks wearing armor you took off a dead man. "You can't pick up chicks in a car that looks like that either." 

"What kind of car is it?" 

"I don't know... looks like a big cat." 

"You mean like a puma?" 

"We need to report this." 

"To who? Capi is kind of dead." 

"To command you moron." Church started back towards their currently empty base. 

"What the hell are they going to do about it?" 

"I don't know... send back up?" 

"Huh... hope it's a hot chick." Tucker followed him back. "Hell, even an average chick would be nice at this point." 

The next day the rookie arrives with the tank and all hell breaks loose. Some red guy waltz right into blue base, stealing their flag. When He and Tucker went after him, the maroon and orange guy showed up with the puma car. Caboose came to the rescue in the tank, only to turn on his team! If Church didn't react on instinct, he would have been completely caught up in the explosion. "What The Fuck Caboose?!?!" He's crumpled over on the cliff, out of sight of the tank, holding his fucked up, bleeding leg. "You Nearly Killed Me!" 

"I don't know how to make the tank lady stop!" Caboose yelled as it drove on its own, firing at the Warthog. 

"Man, I'm calling for better back up. This guy is an idiot." Tucker got on the radio with command, telling them the tank no one knows how to drive is out of control, their temporary leader is to injured to walk, and the vampires have the flag. Vic gave them two options, wait sixteen days for more blues, or an hour for a freelancer. 

"The Hour One! The Hour One!" Caboose yelled over the explosions. 

"No! No Freelancers! Those guys are nothing but trouble!" Church annoyingly yelled over the radio. 

"Dude, we can't wait almost two weeks. We need help now!" 

Vic informed them the Freelancer is on the way, and a medic would be there for the injured in a couple of days. Tucker dragged a cursing Church off the cliff, back to blue base. The Freelancer arrived in forty minutes, assessed the situation without saying a word, and quickly made his way into red base while they were dealing with staying out of the tanks sight. Inside, Donut was still holding the flag, but didn't know what to do with it. 

"Hand it over red." 

"Oh Crap! Who are you?" 

"I said, hand over the flag." 

"No, you didn't. You said hand it over red. Nothing about the flag. 'It' could have meant anything. For all I knew, you wanted to take my armor, leaving me naked." 

He let out a sigh. "I don't have time for this." A single shot rang through red base in-between tank shells. 

"Did... did you just shot me?" Donut let go of the flag, falling forward. 

"Yeah, I did." He pulled some sort of orange cube thing from an armor compartment, tossing it at the blue flag. 

Church jerked when a bleeding out red and the flag seemingly appeared in blue base by magic. "Fuck, my leg!" 

"Stop being such a big baby. That guy got it far worse than you do." 

"Shit... I told you not to let a Freelancer get involved." 

"What's the big deal? We want the vampire's dead, and he's killing them." 

Church growled in anger. "Yeah, but Freelancer's always bring more trouble then they're worth." 

"So... you dealt with them before?" 

"Yeah... you could say that... Freelancer is why me and my girlfriend didn't get married." 

"One of them stole your girl?" 

"No, she... she left me behind to join them." 

Donut groaned from the growing pool of his own blood on the floor. 

"Fuck you red. Die already." 

"Hello!" Caboose walked in grinning from ear to ear, helmet under one arm. 

"Caboose, how did you get the tank to stop?" 

"You mean Sheila? Yeeeeah, she stopped all on her own when the reds came out of the base with some sleeping guy in black and yellow armor. Said something about a washingtub making friends by sims and calling for friends for a surprise birthday party." 

"...GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!" Church yelled louder than he's ever yelled before. 

"I know! We can be friends with a washingtub? That's so neat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wait... this story isn't following the actual series?  
Kind of *shrug*


	3. Traitor Pole

With blue flag sent back where it belongs, Washington can call this training exorcise a success. The other Freelancers might see it that way too this time, since he actually shot a simulation trooper, as well as completed the objective. Heck, with the injured vampire teleported to blue base, the guy was probably dead by the werewolves' hands. Wash opened up his mission objective on his HUD to check it off... noticing that stopping the tank was marked optional. Clearing optional objectives always came with nice bonuses, or a better overall score for the leader board. He's been falling behind lately, so this was a good opportunity. Not all training exercises have optional objectives after all. 

Washington was starting to formulate a plan when a giant bat landed on his visor, screeching at him. "What the?!" then everything went dark. 

"Holy Shit!" Grif was shaking, out of fear of the huge bat and the unknown guy he just hit in the back of the head with a gun. "Who the fuck is this guy?" 

Sarge turned back to his humanoid form (naked). "Don't know, but Donut and the blue flag is gone. Come on, let's get him tied up to the traitor pole." 

"...traitor pole?" 

"The big stick on the roof. It's for punishing traitors and insubordination with sunlight." 

Grif was silent a moment thinking about how he needs to avoid that level of punishment to keep the fact he's very much not a vampire a secret. Maybe he should be a bit nice today. Don't want to get tied up with this random bastard.".... Huh... hey, are you alright sir?" 

"Of course, I am." 

"...You're butt ass naked in sunlight though." 

Sarge got up off the unconscious prisoner. "Yep. My skin will be a glorious red soon." 

"...Right... Sir, perhaps you should go treat that before it gets bad. Lopez is plenty strong enough to carry him to... the roof." Why is there a traitor pole? That is some mid-evil torture bullshit. 

"Hrm, Lopez!" Sarge yelled out for the silent guy with brown armor. When Lopez entered the room, he seemed to give Grif an evil glare, before looking down at the stranger. "Strip him down and tie him to the traitor pole. if he's a vampire, it'll hurt... A Lot. If he's a werewolf, we can easily execute him in clear view of those dirty blues. As a reward, you can punch Grif later." 

"Hey!" 

Lopez looked up to him and swung out at him, like a promise. 

"Stop doing that!" 

"Simmons!" Sarge yelled threw the hole in the roof. 

"Yes sir?" 

"Grab my armor and toss it down!" 

"Right Away Sir." 

Sarge turned back into a bat to decrease the amount of sun on his bare skin, while Simmons gathered up the armor. Grif bolted from the room with a yelp. Lopez grabbed the unconscious man princess style, carrying him outside. The tank fired one last round, then everything was quiet. Too quiet. The calm before the storm level of quiet. Not wanting to damage the armor, Simmons elected to carry it down and not just drop it through the hole. Lopez, alone, removed the armor of their intruder, leaving him in just his under-suit, then chained him to the random looking pole on top of their base. Soon he was joined by the three other reds up there. 

"Son, I don't understand how you can call yourself a vampire when you run away at the sight of a bat." Sarge knew Grif was a useless vampire, but that was ridiculous. 

"...I wasn't born a vampire Sir." Grif said honestly, but needed to come up with a lie. "And the circumstances of my changing was... not pleasant. If I hadn't changed, but still survived the encounter, I probably would be a superhero with no powers wearing a bat costume." 

"Oh please, you're too lazy to ever be Batman." Simmons rolls his eyes as they get to the top of the ramp. 

"Yeah, I really lucked out of that possibility. Instant strength and speed boot or training hard for decades. No thank you." 

"Good work Lopez." Sarge said as he took a closer look at their captive. Caucasian, freckles, oh shit he just moved, short blonde hair, perfectly sculpted muscles, slowly blinking open hazel eyes, small ears. Sarge reached out touching one of the guy's ears. 

Washington jerked away from the physical touch. If he wasn't fully awake before, he is now. "What the?" He tried to move, but the cuffs on his wrists connected behind the communications relay stopped him. 

"Well, look who's up. Rise 'n' shine, buttercup." Sarge mocked him, pulling his hand back. 

Washington glared at the four simulation troopers in-front of him, very aware how exposed he is. His eyes snap to the red armored one as he moved again, ducking down in front of the brown one. It was for barely a second, but he had lifted his helmet, showing a sun burnt nose that took a deep sniffed, then secured it back in place. 

"Alright blood bag, I want to know why you're here, where's the enemies' flag, and what did you do with Privet Donut?" He cocked his shot gun, shoving it in his face. 

_ Stay calm, show no fear. Make them believe you are in control of the situation no matter how bad you really have it. Both vampires and werewolves typically respect someone with guts. _Wash lent forward, pressing his forehead against the barrel, all while staring the vampire right in the visor. "If you're going to shoot me, then do it." 

Sarge smirked inside his helmet, lowering his weapon. "I like the cut of your jib. Lopez." 

The robot used its pistol to shoot Washington in the unarmored foot. He clenched his jaw as he screamed in pain, pulling on the handcuffs keeping him put. Sarge returned the shot gun to his back, grabbing a canister of bio-foam, and handing it over to a confused Simmons. 

"Tell me what I want to know, and Simmons here will patch that hole up for you. Otherwise a lot of pure blood is going to go to waste." 

Washington spat on the Sargent's visor. 

"...Alright... you just earned an hour with the traitor pole. Men, war meeting downstairs. It's time we attacked. Grif, you stay here. Keep an eye on him." 

"What? Why? Dude can't go anywhere." 

"Well, well. Another brilliant idea from the think tank! Just leave the prisoner alone. We could just put him on the honor system, have him guard himself. No way someone capable of sneaking into our base and making the flag and privet disappear without a trace can possibly break loose." 

"Good point, sir." 

"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT IT IS! Now take your post! Simmons, Lopez, come." The three of them headed back down the ramp, going inside to plan. Grif went to stand near the edge of the building, getting a position that allowed him to watch the prisoner and over the canyon for any blues. 

Washington slumped down to take pressure off his wound, taking a moment to look at the so-called traitor pole. It's a project freelancer radio tower. If he could damage it, someone would be sent to repair it, and rescue him from these idiots. That would be hard to manage with the sim soldier watching him though. Maybe he can use him instead. It was meant only as a family tradition and not for practical use, but the skills of a hunter he learned as a kid did come in use in the military. One such skill, much to the annoyance of the other Freelancers, is being able to tell what species someone is even when they are in full armor. 

"So." He called out loudly to get the orange one's full attention, but dropped it to a mere whisper "What is a werewolf doing fighting for the vampires? You know their goal is slavery, right? ... Or are you a spy?"


	4. Remove from Roster

"Director." The far to calm voice of the councilor of project freelancer called, standing a little way aways from Dr. Leonard Church. "It seems something is happening with your experiment 'Blood Gulch'." 

"Blood Gulch? Agent Florida has only been there for two months." 

"The Virtual Intelligence Computer monitoring that quadrant sent a report off scheduled with top clearance needed." 

The director flicked his hand, bringing up a screen asking for verification. "Open it FILSS." 

"Yes director." 

The report opened for him. A moment of reading and he narrowed his eyes. It shows that early yesterday morning, Flowers heart was irregular before it stopped all together, a recover beacon was emitted and a Freelancer was on the way there, when the heart started again several hours later. Today, a distress call over the radio went out from the freelancers armor, but the voice did not match Florida's file. The Freelancer that had already been on the way to the recovery beacon was given new orders for the call for help. After arrival, Agent Washington's mental activity had decreased before the armor was turned off, sending out a recovery beacon as well. The smart tank that had just been given to the blues also sent an alert stating that Washington was unconscious and captured by the reds. 

"FILSS." 

"Yes Director?" 

"Do a bio scan of agent Florida's armor and run it against records for the simulation troopers of Blood Gulch." 

"Right away sir." 

"Is... something wrong." 

"Nothing that can't be dealt with Councilor." 

"Director, the results show the current occupant of Agent Florida's armor matches that of Private Tucker, a werewolf on blue team." 

"And what of his armor?" 

"There are no signs of life in the armor of that particular simulation trooper." 

"FILSS, remove Butch Flowers from the roster and revoke all access to our systems." 

"Shall I deactivate the suit as well Director?" 

"No need. There's no upgrades on that one." 

"Very well Director, it is done." 

The screens displaying the leader board, located all over Mother of Invention, blinked before scrolling down to the teens. Florida's stats were enlarged as his score plummeted down to zero before being removed from the board altogether. Practically everyone on board the ship saw the change happen. Wyoming clenched his fists, staring at the screen in the locker room, knowing exactly what it meant. 

"Director, shall I assign an Agent to respond to the recovery beacon?" 

"Go ahead FILSS, whomever is currently not on a mission will do, but there is no rush." 

"Very well Director."

"Director?" Price raised a brow at that. 

"Washington is the only human Agent we have. Spending time out of armor with both vampires and werewolves could prove valuable." 

"And if they go too far?" 

"Then he too will be removed from the roster." 

"And what of your experiment there?"

"The Alpha will be fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter short, but covers what it needs to.  
Now got to think of what each of the freelancers are. yes they all alive, well except Florida... maybe Georgia to. No clue what happened to him after all.


	5. Stripper

Caboose stood on blue base using the sniper rifle to watch what was happening on top of red base. 

"How come I never get the fucking sniper rifle?" 

"Tucker, just shut up about the god damn gun already." Church hissed from his seated position. Leg hurting like a bitch. 

"You're just mad that you dropped it." 

"I Dropped It While Avoiding Death! ... From Him!" He gestures aggressively at Caboose. 

"That was f" Tucker's voice cuts off and his visor goes black for just a second "p..." He looked around as if lost. "What the hell? My armor just turned off and back on again." 

"..." Church let out a sigh. "We don't have time to deal with your shit right now. Caboose, what is going on with the Freelancer?" 

"The reds are giving him a pole party." 

"What? Dude, they have strippers?" 

"Yes, the one on the pole." Caboose sees that Wash was stripped of his armor. 

"Church, We Have To Get Over There!" 

"Tucker, calm the fuck down. The rookie is a moron. He doesn't understand what's happening." 

"If he can describe the stripper, that would prove it. Caboose, what do they look like." 

"Uuuuh... Even zoomed in, it's kind of far." 

"Come on man. Give me something." 

"Um... blonde?" 

"Hair color? That means no armor. They totally have a stripper!" 

Church rolled his eyes at the over excited teammate. "It doesn't matter if they do or not. The moment they spot you over there, they will shoot you." 

"Yeah but..." Tucker was getting antsy. "We got to do something. Anything." 

Oh, I know." Caboose lowered the scope. "We can trade." 

"Trade what?" 

"The general." 

"Who?" 

A moment later they are all standing around Donut. 

"Him? He's dead." 

"Hang on Church, Caboose's idea might work. We can Weekend at Bernie's him. Just long enough to trick the reds, then we get the stripper. They can take care of their dead and we get a chick." 

"They have baby a chicken?" Caboose bounced a little. "I love baby chickens. They are so cute and tiny and go peep. But not like the candy. Real ones don't like it when you bite them even though they are tasty like the candy ones." 

"..." Church decided to ignore that stupid train. "Look, my leg is killing me, so if you want to drag a corpse across a war zone for what is most likely not a stripper nor a baby chicken, be my guest. I for one am not going." 

Tucker stood there looking down at the red guy next to their flag in a pool of his own blood. There's so much of it now that a slight whiff is coming through the air filters. Like all vampires, it has a pink rose sort of smell mixed in with the salty metallic. It's also a really dark red, like it's a bit old. Makes sense since a vampire's body can't make enough blood on its own to survive, so they have to have human or werewolf blood to make up for it. Tucker has never actually seen or smelled vampire blood in person before. "...You would not believe the lengths I am willing to go for a hot babe." 

"My guess is pretty damn far if you are willing to drag a vampire corps across an active war zone, back to their vampire buddies who are going to shoot, without even knowing what the person looks like." 

"...Fuck you Church. Come on Caboose, help me drag him." 

"Okay!" Caboose picked Donut up over his shoulder all on his own. The red made a little noise from being jostled, but no one really cared. 

"Damn you're strong." 

"That's because I'm from the moon." 

"Wait... What?" Tucker and Caboose talked as they left blue base to trade the nearly dead red off. "So... you grew up as a wolf and not a person." 

"I am a person and a wolf. That is why we are called werewolf." 

Church waited for the two assholes to be out of the base before laughing to himself. "Seriously? He thinks they got a stripper within minutes of us sending a motherfucking Freelancer at them? God, Caboose isn't the only stupid one here. Hope they both get shot." 

Meanwhile over at red base 

Grif was thrown off by the questions. It's nearly impossible for a human to tell werewolves apart from humans. Their noses aren't strong enough to pick up the wild scent that clung to their skin. Even if they were, he's in a full suit of armor, so can't be smelled. Heck even Simmons was even thrown off his trail when face to actual face... probably from the sizzling burgers, but still. Shit, this guy that just came out of bumfuck nowhere knows what he is and is waiting for some sort of reply to the call out. 

"...Dude, what the hell are you whispering about?" 

"Do you really want me to say it louder?" 

Hell No! Someone might hear him if he repeats it. "No. I just don't get why you would think that. Werewolves are monsters that need to be kept in check or they will wreak havoc on a monthly basis. Vampires have the power to keep them in line. I'm just a lazy fat-ass human that knows what needs to be done." 

"...I can't tell if that is how you actually feel, making you the worst wolf I have ever meet, or you are just trying to convince me you're human when you are clearly not. Either way, if you don't get me out of these cuffs, I'll tell the other reds what you are. Your commanding officer will demand you take off your helmet per protocol. Whether wolf or human, the truth will be revealed." Washington's speech started to get sluggish. He's losing quite a lot of blood from his foot. "So, let me go, or die wolfman." 

Grif snarled at the prisoner. "You're forgetting the third option buddy." 

"What, no. There is no third option. It's either one or..." Wash cut himself off when an assault rifle was aimed at him. "...oh..." 

"Yeah, the make sure you never get a chance to tell anyone option." For a moment everything is quiet. Grif's finger hovered over the trigger as he tried to think of another way around this. He's got nothing to gag the guy with, but that would be just a temporary solution anyways. Maybe if he claws his throat out making it so he can't talk. A werewolf claw attack is fairly obvious and Sarge will have questions. What if Simmons shows back up when he's in the middle of the act, seeing his claws out? Shit. The safest bet is to kill the completely defenseless, bleeding out human whose hands are cuffed behind him around a pole... God Damn it. 

"Grif!" The two jump when Simmons yelled as he came up the ramp. "Are you actually taking guard duty seriously?" 

"Um... yes?" Grif is nervous now. If the human started talking, both their lives would be ruined. 

"The blues showed up with Donut demanding a prisoner exchange. Apparently, this guy was hired by them to get their flag back. He shot Donut, then used something that caused the flag and him that teleported them to blue base." Simmons went to Washington, pulling out the can Sarge had given him earlier, and proceeded to use the bio-foam on the bullet wound on the guys foot." 

Wash hissed at the burning sensation as his body began to heal. He was then uncuffed and cuffed again, but not to the pole. The Freelancer would escape at this point if it wasn't for the dizziness. Simmons supported him as they made their way to the ground. Grif was right behind them, weapon trained on the humans back. Sarge and Lopez were aiming their weapons at the two soldiers in blue, one of which was pointing his gun back while the other was carrying Donut. 

"Fuck, so there really isn't a stripper here." Tucker grumbled seeing the blonde human male. 

"I told you there wasn't, you stupid blue." Simmons rolled his eyes. 

"Well, we came this far, might as well finish the stupid deal." The three lowered their weapons. No aiming weapons during the actual part of a prisoner exchange where the prisoners are being exchanged. That's in their terms of war. 

"Grif, lower your weapon." 

"I'm guarding red base sir. Not taking part in the prisoner exchange. No need for me to lower it." Grif not stepped off the ramp of the base, so was technique not going against the terms. Nice little loop hole Simmons figured out and told him while standing guard one day. "If the blues don't like it, then they can take it away from where I'm guarding." 

"Whatever man, just don't shoot at us during or when we leave." 

"Noted." 

Caboose laid Donut down in the dirt while Simmons lead the Freelancer over to him. With a bit too much strength, Caboose lifted Washington up off the ground in a hug. 

"Tucker, can we keep him? Can we can we canwe?" 

"Sure, why not. He's probably more competent then you are even if he got captured on his first job. Better then wounding a teammate or giving the enemy our fucking flag!" 

"Yay!" Caboose hugged a bit tighter, causing Wash to let out a groan. 

"...Hey... where's his armor?" Tucker turned back to the reds. 

"Armor costs extra." Sarge smirked. 

"God dammit." After several minutes of talk later, the blues leave without the Freelancer armor. 

Grif finally stopped aiming his weapon at the human once they were out of range of it. "...Fuck." 


	6. Your Problem, Not Mine

Wash didn't fight it as he was carried over to blue base by the large werewolf in regulation blue armor. He was feeling too weak from the blood loss and the pain originating from his poor foot, but fought against closing his eyes knowing passing out unprotected in the middle of a fake race war was a terrible idea. Mind a bit loopy, so the yelling didn't fully register in his head, but it seems the light blue wolf was not pleased to see him. For a moment Wash thought they were going to put him in a flower bed, but was laid out on just a regular shitty cot. He tried to sit up now out of the blue ones hold, but an aqua gloved hand gently shoved him back down. 

"Dude, you look like you haven't slept in weeks." 

Wash tried to grumble out that he needed to get his equipment, then get back to the mother of invention so his score on the leader board doesn't drop too much. What actually came out of his mouth was "Helmet... mother... board." 

"We can get your helmet's motherboard later. Just... don't move." Tuckers words did not stop the freelancer though. "Caboose, do something." 

"Okay." Caboose stripped out of his armor. 

"That's not helping Caboose!" 

"Yes it is!" He had a great big smile as his body gave an awful crack and twisted. 

"Oh shit! Why are you changing? You want him to have a heart attack?" 

Caboose snarled as the transformation took away his speech. Fight or flight reared up in Washington. First, he looked around for a gun, but Caboose was between the human and the riffle, also Tucker didn't seem to have one with him. The god-awful pillow thrown at the beast didn't even faze it. In fact, he picked it up in his maul and brought the drool soak pillow back to him. Wash brought his fist back, ready to stab the werewolf in the eye with his finger so to blind it and cause pain long enough to get pat it, then grab the gun. An armored hand grabbed his own, as well as one on the wolf's snout. 

"Fucking hell Rookie. You are seriously a moron! Don't transform in front of a human. No matter how bad-ass they are, they will have a fucking panic attack or some shit!" Church had entered the room so quickly; he was like a blur. Blood is running down his injured leg anew. 

"...Wow... I didn't know you could move that fast when there's not an all you can eat buffet involve Church." 

"Shut up, I'm not fat!" 

"Uh huh, and Caboose is a chihuahua." 

"Speaking of Caboose, What The Hell Are You Thinking!?" 

Caboose let out a whine as his tail stopped wagging, dropping down between his legs. He plops down right on top of Washington's legs and torso to keep him from getting up. More than half of his form is hanging off the end of the cot still. Even in werewolf standards, Caboose is fucking huge! 

Church let go of his face. "Don't you dare bite. I don't care if he even asks you to Caboose. Do Not Bite The Freelancer!" He let go of Washington's arm only for hit to thumb to the thin mattress. Seems he somehow finally passed out. Took long enough. Church turned to Tucker. "I blame all of this shit on you." 

"What? Why? I didn't do anything." 

"You called for a freelancer's help, then you brought him back when you wanted a stripper. In my books, your responsible for him. Everything he does is your problem. Keep me out of it." 

"Fine. Be that way. Fucking cockbite." 

Church snarled at him as he left Captain Flowers bunk. 


	7. Needs Some Space

For someone whom isn't a trained medical personnel, Sarge seems to know what he is doing. He did what he could to stabilize Donut and gave him several days' worth of blood to replenish him, but vampires are slow to heal*. After that he sent word to command about the entire incident with the flag, tank, and human the blue's hired. Vic worked his sly magic, convincing the red leader they were getting a medic and a freelancer of their own on the way. With that out of the way, he now had to inform his two subordinates about the new change in their base. The two were up on the roof, making sure the blues and human weren't coming back. 

"Men!" Sarge yelled out to them. "With the rookie going out of commission on his first day, there will be some changes around here." 

"Oh, so I can tell Grif he's sharing his bunk with Donut now?" 

"What? ...No, Fuck That Bull Shit! I am not sharing a room with him!" 

"What can I say? There are only three rooms that can be used for sleeping quarters. So, at the last weekly meeting it was decided that you get the rookie." Simmons shrugged it off. 

"But I wasn't at the meeting! Sir, you cannot make me share a room with Donut." 

"Oh, yes I can." Sarge huffed at him. "But I won't." 

"Oh, thank god." 

"Your bunking with Simmons instead."

"WHAT!" Grif's relief was snuffed out as soon as it bloomed. "Why?" 

"Hrmh, the kid needs peace and quiet to heal properly." 

"Sir, I understand Donut needing his own space while he recovers, but is it really necessary for me and Grif to bunk together? I could always reorganize our supply room to accommodate a cot for the time being. It would only be till Donut has recovered after all." 

"No can do. Lopez already made space in the closet for himself. So, get your rear in gear and move your belongings Simmons." 

"Yes Sir." The maroon soldier saluted as the Sargent left the two of them to continue guarding the base. 

"Don't you fucking dare Simmons. This is not happening." 

"I don't like it anymore then you do, but orders are orders." 

"Yeah, no. I am not going through this bullshit again. Sleeping in armor sucks." Grif stood there with his arms crossed. 

"Why would you sleep in your... oh... just like basic training. Shit." The two stared at each other awkwardly for a minute. Simmons didn't know the other wasn't a vampire back at the last meeting. He would have volunteered to room with the rookie instead if he had. "...No amount of promising I won't bite you in your sleep is going to put you at ease, is it?" 

"What do you think?" 

"Well, too bad. Sarge gave the order, so this is happening. Just be glad you don't have to bunk with Donut. I at least understand your weird ass habits." 

"Fucking hell." Grif yelled as he turned heading to his room, that Simmons was now going to be sharing with him. He needed to do the unthinkable, and actually clean it up to get rid of some of his more earthy wild scent. Letting Simmons think he is human is his best bet for surviving this war against his kind. 

"Hey! We are on lookout duty! Grif! Get Back Here!" Simmons only got flipped off over the orange shoulder as a response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Vampire's heal slowly because of blood reasons. They get all their nutrients from blood and red team doesn't have a fresh source of it. The older food is the less nutrients it has. Healing a wound starts with blood clotting and then healthy fresh nutrients and oxygen delivered through blood to start the tissue healing as well as white blood cells fighting infections.  
So in lore where vampires heal fast it is magic. I'm going more scientific with this setting.


End file.
